


Trust Me

by Siberianskys



Series: Trust Me [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Food Issues, Gen, Tropes, non-explicit references to past physical and sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberianskys/pseuds/Siberianskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson takes over as Barton's handler and things don't begin smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

Coulson woke to the hotel room phone ringing with what was most likely his and Barton’s wake-up call. He lifted the phone to his ear and listened to the cheery woman on the other end wish him a good morning. He thanked her and hung-up. Yesterday’s op had been a cluster-fuck. Barton had refused to take a shot as was his right, but his latest handler, Agent Crane, hadn’t seen it that way and put him in cuffs before requesting another sniper and a team of agents to escort him to the brig. When the request crossed Coulson’s desk, he refused the request and ordered Crane back to base, instructing him to leave Barton at the hotel. Crane had balked, but followed the order which is how Coulson found himself looking over his shoulder to check and see if Barton was awake and ask about his breakfast order. He was surprised to see the other side of the king-sized bed vacant. Frowning, he climbed out of bed to check the floor and found that void of his charge as well. Friend or not, if Barton had managed to bolt in the night, the newly minted Director Fury was going to have his ass. A quick survey of the room made it clear that if Barton was gone it wasn’t a voluntary exit. The young sniper would never have abandoned his bow and quiver. 

“You’re slipping, Phil,” Coulson muttered to himself when he noticed the pale light coming from under the bathroom door. His earlier frown deepened when he noticed the lack of noise coming from the other side. He tentatively tested the door knob, expecting to find resistance; instead the door opened a crack. Even though Barton seemed committed to his own survival and his psych evaluations agreed with Coulson’s own assessment of the man, his memories of what he’d read in Barton’s personnel file not to mention the accompanied photographs made him fear what he may find. Taking a deep, calming breath he pushed the door the rest of the way open. He felt the tension leave his body when he saw that Barton was asleep on his side in the bathtub, his compact, muscular frame curled around one of the hotel pillows, his thumb in his mouth. Coulson allowed himself a small smile as he studied Barton. It was the first time Coulson had seen the man look relaxed, but, Coulson also knew that Barton’s behavior was anything but normal and he was going to have to have a word with psych upon their return to HQ about what else Barton might be choosing to keep hidden even though the probationary agent had been told that full disclosure was mandatory. Whatever it was, Coulson was certain that he’d sleep better without knowing, but he wouldn’t be much good to Barton if he worried about his own comfort over the needs of his asset. 

Coulson knocked hard on the door frame and called Barton’s name loudly. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave the sniper a measured stare when the young agent jerked upright. “You need to get up and tell me what you want from room service so we can make our flight.”

“You can just get me whatever you’re having, sir,” Barton said.

“If I was going to do that I would have already made the order.” Coulson didn’t like the pained look on Barton’s face. A breakfast order shouldn’t be this difficult of a decision and there wasn’t anything in Barton’s file about an eating disorder. “Agent Barton, all I need to know is what you’d like for breakfast.”

“It really doesn’t matter,” Barton said. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that doesn’t have a preference in regard to breakfast food.”

“Maybe you’ve just never met anyone that’s gone hungry as often as I have. I eat what’s put in front of me and I don’t complain about it.”

“That part of your life is over,” Coulson said. “I’m not saying there won’t be times when a decent meal won’t be readily available during a mission, but that’s not today. The chef in this hotel has a really good reputation and S.H.I.E.L.D. is paying, so the sky’s the limit.” 

“I’ve never had Eggs Benedict,” Clint said. 

“That’s criminal. Why don’t you go ahead and get your shower while I order. And, Barton, when you feel like explaining to me why you chose to sleep in a cold, hard bathtub instead of a perfectly good bed, I’ll be there to listen,” Coulson said closing the bathroom door.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the shared bed square on my trope_bingo card. 
> 
> I borrowed the title from a Janis Joplin song.


End file.
